


five brothers, two trees

by ladymedraut



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, F/M, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22765141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymedraut/pseuds/ladymedraut
Summary: Lot and Morgause make the mistake of trusting their sons to return with a reasonably-sized Christmas tree.
Relationships: Galahad/Mordred (Arthurian), Lot/Morgause
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	five brothers, two trees

**Author's Note:**

> This month, on "things I found buried in a folder and am posting wildly out of sync with when it was actually written":

“Where are the boys?” Lot asked, closing the door quickly behind him and knocking the snow off of his boots.

Morgause flicked a few stray flakes out of his graying hair and greeted him with a kiss. “They’re getting the tree.”

Lot froze. “They’re getting it without us?”

“You’ve had a long day at work and your knee still hurts from skiing last weekend. No, don’t even try to deny it, I always know when you’re lying. I made Gareth clear all his stuff off the couch, now sit down and drink this.” Morgause pressed a mug of hot chocolate into her husband’s hands and steered him towards the sofa.

“But how could you let them go on their own?” Lot insisted as Morgause grabbed her laptop and curled up next to him. He would never admit it, but his knee _was_ killing him. In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have gone skiing with Arthur and Uriens, but they’d had a good time on the slopes and the pain was almost worth it. There was a part of him that was glad he didn’t have to drive all the way out to the tree farm, but all the same… Someone had to supervise the boys.

“We tagged it together last month,” Morgause said, rolling her eyes. “Stop worrying.”

“You really think they’re going to bring the same tree back?”

“Have a little faith in them,” she sighed. “Now relax, drink your hot chocolate, and help me pick pictures for our Christmas cards.”

* * *

“I can’t believe Mom trusted us to get the tree.”

“Come on, Mordred. We’re perfectly trustworthy adults.” Gawain’s grin said exactly the opposite. “Agravaine, stop playing with the saw. Gaheris, what did you do with the rope? I gave it to you like three seconds ago!” A golden blur slammed into him, nearly knocking him off his feet. “Dammit, Gareth, keep Rience on his leash or we’ll have to put him back in the truck!”

Agravaine grudgingly stopped twirling the saw around his fingers, Gaheris found the rope in the bed of the truck, and Gareth snapped the retriever’s leash back on. Gawain surveyed the motley crew of brothers and dog and grinned.

“Alright troops, let’s move out.”

“Isn’t the tree that way?” Gareth said, pointing in the opposite direction from where his eldest brother was headed.

Mordred rolled his eyes and tugged Gareth’s beanie down over his face. “What’s the point of having a sixteen foot ceiling if you don’t get a tree to match? You go through this whole admittedly a little bit absurd tradition of bringing a freaking pine tree into your house, like, you’d better damn make sure it’s the biggest pine tree you can find or else what’s the point?”

“But we already tagged one!”

Agravaine whistled, and Rience dragged Gareth over to his side. “You’re still young and innocent and in high school, little brother, so I’ll explain it to you.” He wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “It’s like this—Gawain and Mordred and I always try to convince Mom and Dad to chop down the tallest tree we can. Mom and Dad always overrule us and get some crappy little six foot specimen that’s a disgrace to pine trees everywhere because they’re the ones with the money and the car. However, this year we have Gawain’s truck, and Mom already gave us the money, and all the trees here are the same price. There is absolutely nothing to stop us from getting the best tree ever.”

“What about that one?” Gaheris said, pointing to a rather unimpressive-looking tree.

“I don’t think—”

Gawain was cut off mid-sentence when a snowball struck him square in the middle of his jacket.

Gaheris smiled innocently and pointed to Mordred, who pointed to Agravaine, who pointed to Gareth, who pointed back to Gaheris.

Ten minutes and many snowballs later, the boys were covered from head to toe in fluffy white powder and Rience was more white than golden. Gareth and Gaheris had definitely come out on the losing side.

“I demand a rematch,” Gaheris declared.

“Tomorrow. Right now we need to get that tree.” Gawain struck out for the border of the tree lot, a determined set to his shoulders.

“Ooh, tomorrow Mor’s boyfriend is coming for dinner.” Agravaine elbowed his brother in the ribs. “Shall we make it everyone against the two of them?”

Mordred’s face had turned a truly brilliant shade of red. “He grew up in Florida, guys. This is like his second winter. Go easy on him.”

“What’s this? The Most Perfect Galahad has a flaw?”

It was Mordred’s turn to elbow Agravaine. “We can still take the lot of you.”

“Guys, I’ve found our tree,” Gawain interrupted their bickering.

“That is a monstrosity.”

“That is magnificent.”

“That's not going to fit in the truck.”

“That's not going to fit in the _house_.”

Gawain high-fived Mordred, who had declared the tree magnificent, snatched the saw from Agravaine, and set to work on the trunk.

“Gawain, that’s seventeen feet tall and like eight feet wide. Gawain. Gawain!”

“Shh, Agravaine, it’s magnificent.” Gawain had crawled under the bottom-most branches and was attacking the trunk with vigor.

“Mom’s going to kill us,” Gaheris moaned.

“She can’t,” Mordred said, dropping to his knees and grabbing the other side of the saw. “It’s Christmas. C’mon, Gawain, is that the fastest you can saw?”

“I was up at like 3 AM last night trying to kickstart the generator. Cut me a little slack.”

Agravaine sighed in resignation and kicked Gawain’s shoulder. “Let me do it.”

“Be my guest.”

The brothers felled the tree in a matter of seconds. Gawain wrapped the rope around the trunk and heaved it over his shoulder, while Agravaine, Mordred, and Gaheris strung themselves out along the length of the tree and Gareth struggled to pull Rience away from a particularly interesting-smelling patch of snow.

"To the truck!” Gawain cried victoriously.

* * *

“One batch of gingerbread cookies says that’s not the tree we tagged,” Lot murmured, blinking one eye open when he heard the tires crunching on the snow.

“Wager accepted. You know I only married you because you can bake.”

"We're home!" Gawain flung open the door and Rience tore into the house, shaking snow onto the carpet. "Agravaine and Gareth are just putting the tree in the stand before we bring it in."

“What do you think of our Christmas cards?” Morgause asked, presenting her eldest with a specimen and pointedly ignoring whatever nonsense was going on outside. Lot lounged on the sofa, nursing his third hot chocolate--this one spiked with Bailey's--and doing his best not to grin. 

“Why is Gringolet more prominently featured than I am?” Gaheris sighed, leaning over Gawain's shoulder.

Gawain snatched the card away from his brother. “Because Gringolet looks better than you do.”

At the center of the card was a picture of Gawain with his arms thrown around Gringolet’s neck, the grey gelding’s ears poking through his Santa hat with reindeer antlers flopping behind them. Next to it was a picture of Lot and Morgause dressed up for the annual politicians’ holiday gala and a photo of Agravaine and Gareth in abominably ugly Christmas sweaters. Off in one corner was a picture of Mordred caught under the mistletoe looking like he was about to murder whoever was holding the camera, while the other corner contained a small picture of Gaheris playing carols on the piano.

“Yeah,” Mordred agreed, “Gringolet is way more photogenic.”

“I hate you both.”

“No presents for you, then,” Lot laughed. “Anyone have any plans for after dinner? I was thinking we could decorate the tree.”

Mordred muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

“What was that, Mor?”

“Can’t… caroling…” he mumbled.

“Mordred, I still can’t hear you.”

“Ican’tI’mgoingcarolingwithGalahad.”

“Whaaat?” Gaheris craned his neck around. “The Grinch is going _caroling_? What witchcraft is this?”

“It was Galahad’s idea,” Mordred shot back, but he was saved from further questioning when Agravaine and Gareth charged in through the door with a battering ram of a tree.

“What. Is. That?” 

Agravaine and Gaheris set the tree on the floor and shoved Gawain toward their parents.

“Erm, well, we, uh... The tree we tagged got struck by lightning, and, um, we decided to go with this one instead,” he stammered, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re a horrible liar,” Morgause muttered. “I’d almost be angry, if I weren’t so impressed you actually managed to fit that monstrosity in the house.”

The brothers breathed a collective sigh of relief. "So we're, uh, we're not in trouble?" Gawain said as Agravaine elbowed him in the ribs. 

Lot inspected the tree, sipping on his hot chocolate, and finally let his grin break out. "Of course you're not. You just won me a batch of cookies. Isn't that right, Morgause?"


End file.
